


If the Eight-Six is tired, Takumi is tired

by bellygunnr



Category: Initial D
Genre: Ambiguity, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:50:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Takumi's apparently mysterious ability to handle a car go far beyond what even Ryosuke can fathom. If the Eight-Six is damaged, Takumi is damaged. If she's tired, he's tired. They transcend normal racer-car relationships.





	If the Eight-Six is tired, Takumi is tired

The busted suspension sent Takumi crashing to the ground as soon as he stepped out of the car. Fumihiro jumped to catch him, scooping into a partial sling with his arms, eyes wide with shock. Had the races exhausted Takumi that much? The 86 certainly looked exhausted, its tires worn to nothing, engine growling in upset. And Takumi wasn't responding very quickly at all to being hauled around...

"Are you alright? What happened?" Fumihiro asked, voice low, trying to help the young driver find his feet. "Fujiwara?"

Takumi panted, clutching at Fumihiro's shirt. "I'm fine, don't worry... That race was... hard on the car..."

"Of course, and you as well, don't forget that. Are you hurt anywhere?" Fumihiro presses. The others have caught up-- God Arm, Ryousuke, Keisuke, and Kenta all. Confusion flits about them.

"The suspension," Takumi breathes out. "That's all."

"On the 86? Yes, we did tell you it couldn't take another hit like that, Fujiwara," Ryousuke says slowly. "But that doesn't explain why you are hurt."

"Yes, it does," Takumi says. "It's my fault it happened, and the 86 is complaining."

But it didn't change the fact that the 86 was exhausted, which only drained Takumi's reserves further. He forced himself out from Fumihiro's grip all the same, brushing himself off. Shoot, even if the car could drive, neither of them would want to...

"Complaining, huh...?" Ryousuke hums, smiling thoughtfully. "I see. What else does the 86 say, Takumi?"

Keisuke makes a noise, brows knitting with concentration.

"Not a lot, but... I won't be able to drive, if the 86 can still drive," Takumi explains. "I think she can."

"Well, we will certainly find out," Fumihiro says, mystified.

  
The 86 could drive, as determined by Matsumoto and the other mechanics, but Takumi could not. He knelt beside the car, fingers stroking along the wheel where the suspension had been damaged, legs aching dully. His concentration was loose, like wet noodles, and he could barely focus on anything.

"Sorry, Eight-Six," he murmurs, fingers pressing into the now-cool metal. "Man, sometimes I wish you didn't hold such a grudge, because this hurts."

The 86 did not grace him with a response. She was a car, after all.

"Er, Fujiwara," Fumihiro spoke gently. "Who would you prefer drive the Eight-Six?"

"Huh? Oh..." Takumi makes a choked noise, fingers digging. He didn't want anyone driving the 86. "Matsumoto, preferably, but I suppose whoever can do it."

It made his stomach twist just slightly.

"Of course, Fujiwara."

It was hard to remember who drove what, or did what, on Project D. Takumi leaned against the wheel of the 86, legs folding neatly beneath him. It was best just to settle here for a second or two longer.

  
In a spectacular turn of events, Ryosuke drove the Eight-Six through the long procession home, tailed closely by Keisuke's FD. He was silent for the bulk of the trip until content that Takumi was awake and at least partially coherent-- or well...

Until Takumi confronted him directly.

"What possessed you to drive my car, sir?" Takumi asks, voice edged but not quite.

"Was it too forward of me? I apologize, if so," Ryosuke says, fingers tightening in surprise. If he was slightly off his rhythm, well, the 86 was an alien car to him. "But I have some questions, if you will permit me."

"I guess... go ahead," Takumi says uncertainly.

"What did you mean when you said the 86 was complaining?"

Oh. That.

"Well, she was, and she still is," Takumi says, explaining nothing. "The wheels are pulling and I bet the steering's a pain, right?"

Ryosuke made a noise of affirmation. "Yet that is expected of a car with the type of damage inflicted, is it not? Though I am surprised you could tell. I thought I was managing it quite well."

"No, because every correction makes my legs ache," Takumi retorts. His temper was simmering, uncapped by pain and exhaustion.

"Won't you explain that to me, Takumi?" Ryosuke asks kindly.

He wasn't sure how to explain it, not in any sensible way. It was inexplicable.


End file.
